Hometown Courtship
The simmering in her stomach worked up to a full boil. It took a lot to get her riled but when she did—well, someone should warn him.
As the crowd grew, Callie’s heart pounded so hard against her chest she was sure it would break through and beat this man half to death. She’d always heard there was a fine line between love and you’d-better-run.
“Right.” She smiled again, but could feel it falter under the weight of her anger.
“Good.” He then explained the program to her, but she didn’t hear a word of it. She couldn’t imagine how this rude, arrogant, man was the same suave, debonair man she’d met at the bakery.
“You need a hard hat.” He pointed to her gym shoes. “And boots. Hard-toed boots.”
The way he stared at her shoes made her feel as though she had a bad pedicure. She wanted to hide her feet. “No one told me.”
He blew out a sigh. A very manly, husky sigh. She ignored it. No one messed with her toes and got away with it.
“There’s a pair of women’s boots in my truck over there. Best put them on.” He strode away without so much as a backward glance.
She couldn’t believe she’d given up a perfectly tasty peach scone for this jerk. It wouldn’t happen again.
“So how did your morning with the parking ticket dodger go?” Brad’s sister-in-law asked as she placed a bowl of chili in front of him on the table.
“Now, Brianna, let the man alone. He’s no doubt had a hard day on the job,” Ryan teased.
“Yeah, like you ever leave me alone.” Brad had indeed had a hard day. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh at the job site. But people were watching and if he hadn’t used Callie as an example, he’d have total chaos on the job. Though they were volunteers, he still needed people to be punctual and treat the project as a real job or they’d never finish on time or produce a quality home.
Ryan shrugged and sprinkled shredded cheese over his chili. “Yeah, you’re right. So how did it go?”
Across the table, their seventeen-year-old daughter, Olivia, snickered.
“Not you, too,” Brad said.
“Sorry, Uncle Brad.”
“Did you find a job yet, Olive?” Brad was the only one who could get by calling her that.
“Not yet. I’ve tried everywhere. I hope I don’t get stuck babysitting the Graber twins again this year. I’m so ready for a real job.”
“Nice way to change the subject, Brad,” Ryan said. He turned to his daughter. “Honest work is honest work. It pays the bills. And right now you’re saving for college. Which reminds me, did you go to the library and check on those scholarship options yet?”
“Dad, can we talk about this later?”
“We can and we will,” Ryan said in an unmistakably firm tone.
Olivia turned to Brad and smiled. “So, tell us about your day.”
“I’ll get you later,” he hissed at his grinning niece.
Brad explained how he’d run into Callie at the bakery and how she’d turned up late at the job site. When he finished, everyone was quiet. He could feel Ryan studying him.
“What?” Brad tried to appear nonchalant.
Ryan exchanged a glance with Brianna, then turned twinkling eyes to Brad. Judges’ eyes weren’t supposed to twinkle.
“Nothing.” Ryan looked at Brianna once again. “Did I say anything?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” she said.
He turned back to Brad. “Nothing here.”
“Look, Ryan, I’ve told you. I’m not interested in a relationship. I’m waiting for my next missionary assignment in South America. I’m only here because of Mom.”
“I don’t know why when there’s plenty to do here,” Ryan said.
“I don’t question why you want to be a judge.”
“You’re not getting any younger,” Ryan said.
Brad took a bite of the spicy chili in front of him. It was fiery hot but he didn’t let on.
There was no denying that Callie Easton was eye candy, but he’d seen her type before. He couldn’t deal with the nail polish, the hair, the makeup….
“She primps, plucks and pedicures, Ryan.”
“They all do that.”
“Remember, Nicole started out that way, obsessing over her appearance. One thing led to another until—”
“You can’t compare every woman who dabs on nail polish to our sister. She had issues. She was sick, Brad.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay, matter dropped,” Ryan said, followed by a moment of silence.
Brad knew he had been hard on Callie, but he didn’t want her around the job site. She was a distraction, and he figured she liked it that way. The sooner they could get through this job, the better.
“You know, little brother, you could use a haircut.”
He goes from one complaint about me to another. Brad’s hand rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not that bad. But my barber retired, so I’ll have to find someone soon.” Brad swirled the chili around in his bowl.
“I go to that place behind the bakery you said you visited this morning. It’s called the Peaches & Cream Salon. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the best place in town. You ought to check it out,” Brianna said.
Brad turned to Ryan. “Do you go there?”
He shook his head. “I go to a shop near the courthouse. But that’s out of your way.”
Brad thought a moment and nodded. “Maybe I’ll do that.” Thankful to talk about anything but his love life, Brad made a mental note to check out the salon.
Callie looked at her client’s cranberry-polished nails. “That’s it, Mrs. Frantz. You’re free to go.”
“Thank you, dear.” The old woman stuffed a ten-dollar tip into Callie’s hand, then hobbled out the door.
“What is she, three hundred years old by now?” Jessica asked, opening a box and examining the contents.
“Jessica, shh—she will hear you.”
“Her?” Jessica asked, pointing. “That woman hasn’t heard anything since 1973. She’s got pretty nails, though, I’ll give her that.”
Callie suppressed a giggle and began to clean her manicure station. “You’d better behave yourself or Aunt Bonnie will get you.”
“Yeah, right. I’ve seen puppies more fierce than her on her worst day.”
Everyone knew Aunt Bonnie was as sweet as they came.
Jessica glanced at her watch. “You sure you can cover for me while I take Mom to the doctor?”
“Absolutely. You go ahead and go.” Callie looked at the box of new inventory. “Hey, didn’t we get another box of the setting gel?”
“Yeah, a small one. It’s in the back room,” Jessica said, without looking up.
“Great. Let me get that before you take off.”
“No problem.”
As Callie walked into the back room, she heard the front door swoosh open. A man’s voice said someone had recommended he come to the salon for a haircut.
“It just so happens there’s a stylist in the back who can help you. Go ahead and take a seat by the wash basin.” Jessica popped into the back room. “You have a customer.” She raised her eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “Too bad I have to leave.”
Callie rolled her eyes and walked past her toward the front. Facing the back of the customer’s head, Callie pulled product from the shelf.
“So, this is your first time here?” she asked, working the shampoo into his hair.
“Uh-huh.” His words vibrated as her fingers massaged his scalp.
He didn’t offer anything else, so Callie let her mind meander while she finished the job. Once she rinsed away the bubbles, she flipped up his chair and towel-dried his hair.
“If you’ll follow me,” she said, leading the way to her cutting station.
He settled into his seat. She swiveled him around to face the mirror. That’s when they saw each other for the first time. Callie’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. By the look of Brad Sharp, she would say he wasn’t doing any better.
“I, uh, my sister-in-law told me to come here. I didn’t know you worked here. My barber retired, I needed a place—”
The way his words tumbled into one another might have been funny if she wasn’t still mad at him for his behavior on the job.
She swung the scissors toward him, opening and closing them a couple of times for good measure. He squirmed in his seat, which satisfied her immensely.
“My aunt and uncle own this place. This is where I work.” Snip, snip, snip. He had nice hair. Really didn’t need much of a cut, but guys like him kept their hair groomed to perfection.
“Listen, about this morning—”
“Yes?” She stopped and stared at him through the mirror. She kept the scissors poised and dangerously close to his ear. Clint Eastwood’s words played in her head. “Go ahead, make my day.”
“I’m sorry if I came across too harsh.”
Well, she hadn’t seen that one coming. Snip, snip, snip. “Don’t worry about it. You did what you had to do.”
She could feel him looking at her and glanced at him through the mirror.
“Thanks.” It was all he said, but the way he said it sent a slow tingle that started at the top of her spine and shimmied all the way down.
“So how did you get into construction?” she asked, warmth spreading through her fingers as they brushed the back of his neck and feathered through his hair.
“I’ve been at it for as long as I can remember. I’ve worked overseas, building homes for the poor.”
She stopped cutting and looked up at him. “Really?” Her toppled knight in shining armor was quickly regaining his position on the white horse.
They discussed the Make a Home project when suddenly a telephone call on his cell phone cut their conversation short. Thankfully, she had finished his hair before he had to go. He paid for his trim and bounded out of the salon as quickly as his legs could carry him.
She couldn’t help wondering what had really brought him to their salon.
Chapter Three
Brianna and Ryan were in this together. Someone was going to pay.
Brad peeled out of the parking lot faster than he had intended. The last thing he wanted was for Callie to witness his little outburst. He was thankful a caller with a wrong number gave him an excuse to leave.
“I don’t believe she did this to me.” One glance at the speedometer told him he’d better settle down or he’d be standing before the judge. At the first stoplight, he picked up his cell phone and hit speed dial.
“Hello?” Ryan said with disgusting innocence.
“You set me up,” Brad snapped.
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Ryan, you know good and well what I’m talking about. Brianna purposely sent me to that hair place because Callie Easton works there.”
“She does?”
“Oh, no, you don’t. You of all people should know lying doesn’t work.”
“Okay, so we knew she worked there. What’s the big deal? It’s still a great place for a haircut. You needed a recommendation, and Brianna gave you one. What’s the harm?”
A growl rumbled in his throat.
“Listen, little brother, I’d like to talk with you, but Brianna’s just put dinner on the table. You know how she is when dinner gets cold. Talk to you later.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Real nice.” Brad tossed his phone on the seat and sped off. His gut coiled. The last thing he wanted was for Callie to think he was interested. Okay, so he’d flirted with her at the bakery. But knowing she was a plant of his brother’s changed things and the princess image didn’t sit well with him, either. No matter how much her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and her soft hands felt warm against his skin.
Once home, Brad stepped into his office. He handled all his paperwork for his jobs from his office at home, saving him the expense of a secretary. Keeping expenses down and doing some extra carpentry work on the side afforded him the opportunity to oversee the Make a Home projects and save money to go back to work in South America. He may not be rich, but he enjoyed his life—as a bachelor.
He went out now and then, but he hadn’t met anyone he would want to share his life with. In fact, he’d given up on the idea. He could think of worse things than bachelorhood. Besides, he’d been too busy to think about women lately.
Hammer trotted into the room and gave Brad’s leg a nudge. He reached down and rubbed his back. “How you doing, boy?”
Sticking two invoices into their appropriate files, Brad sharpened a couple of pencils, stuck them in his caddy and took a final glance around the room. Satisfied that everything was in its place, he walked out.
“Come on, boy,” he called to Hammer, closing the door behind them. “Let’s go see Mom.”
Ryan could push all he wanted. Brad was standing firm. He had a good life, and he didn’t need a woman—especially a woman with painted nails and a punctuality problem. “I’ve seen plenty of pretty women in my day. She is just one more.”
End of story.
Callie couldn’t make sense out of Brad’s visit to the salon. Did he really just want a haircut? She’d like to think he came there on purpose, but he was obviously surprised to see her. Was that an act? Was he checking up on her? Working undercover? If so, why? She disregarded a couple of parking tickets, for crying out loud. Was that a crime? Well, maybe it was a crime, but it wasn’t exactly a felony.
She pulled her car into her aunt and uncle’s driveway. She could use some distraction from thinking about Brad Sharp.
“Come on in, honey,” Aunt Bonnie said as she opened the front door.
The spicy scent of herbed pork chops and buttery potatoes filled the air. Callie followed her nose to the kitchen.
“Smells awesome,” she said.
Dressed in jeans, a pink flowing blouse and a full-length apron, Aunt Bonnie was leaning over, peering into the oven. “Looks good.” She closed the oven door, then walked over and gave Callie a hug. “Oh, you’re getting skinnier.”
That’s why she loved her aunt.
“So, how was your day?”
“Why—why do you ask?” Callie stammered.
With a confused expression, Bonnie pulled off her oven mitts. “Well, I didn’t have much chance to talk to you at the salon, and I was just wondering how your community service has been going.”
Callie hated to be suspicious, but sometimes Aunt Bonnie was innocence, sometimes snoop queen. Right now, Callie wasn’t sure which.
“It was fine, really. Building a house is pretty amazing. I had no idea how much went into it.” Callie grabbed some glasses and filled them with ice and water, attempting to forget the humiliation of yesterday morning, the look on Brad’s face, his biting words. At least she’d made it on time this morning.
“Any handsome young men working there?” Aunt Bonnie’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Why, are you in the market?”
Aunt Bonnie giggled. “Oh, you,” she said.
“Uncle George home yet?” Callie placed the glasses on the table.
“No, but he should be home any second.” Bonnie gathered serving spoons. “Are you trying to change the subject?”
Just then they heard the garage door open and Uncle George’s car creeping into his parking spot. Not that it was hard to do. He kept an immaculate garage. Callie wished his organizational skills had rubbed off on her.
“There are my girls.” Uncle George hung his keys on a wooden peg by the door, walked over and kissed Aunt Bonnie soundly on the lips, then gave Callie a peck on the cheek. “How’s your community service going? Any eligible bachelors?”
Callie sighed.
Uncle George laughed and shrugged. “Just wondered.”
They were hopeless romantics, no doubt about it.
Callie slid into her chair and placed her napkin on her lap. “If you must know, it was fine.” They stared at her. “And, um, no reason to get your hopes up.”
Their shoulders slumped in unison.
Uncle George said grace over their meal, scooped out a dollop of mashed potatoes, then passed the bowl to Callie.
“You got your new work crew lined up for the ice-cream shop, Uncle George?”
“I’m working on it. I still have one more position to fill, and I’m not real happy with the applications I have left. It’s hard to find good help these days.”
Callie suddenly imagined Brad saying the same thing.
Once dinner was over, Callie and Aunt Bonnie cleaned the table and washed the dishes while Uncle George went into the living room and relaxed in front of the television. He was as sweet as they came, but when it came to kitchen duties, he was fully convinced they were a woman’s job. Aunt Bonnie said he made up for it by helping with the laundry.
Callie wanted a man who wasn’t afraid to do both. An image of Brad in an apron popped into her head. Yeah, that would be the day.
“What are you thinking about?” Aunt Bonnie asked while maneuvering a long pan into the cupboard.
“Nothing much.” Callie worked her fingers through the soap bubbles for more silverware.
“I don’t know why we just didn’t load the dishwasher,” Aunt Bonnie said.
Callie shrugged. “I thought it might soften my hands after working construction for two days.”
Her aunt laughed.
“Aunt Bonnie, do you think Dad ever thinks of me?”
The older woman closed the cupboard door and walked over to Callie. “I’m sure he does, every single day, honey.” Bonnie reached up and stroked Callie’s cheek, her soft hand protective and maternal. “I’ve no doubt he would love to see you, but he’s waited so long that now he probably wouldn’t know how to do it.”
Callie dried her hands and sat down at the clean table. “I wish I knew how to contact him.”
With her warm brown eyes fixed on Callie, Bonnie sat across from her and patted her hand. “I know, Cal,” she said softly. “Something stirring up thoughts of your dad lately?”
“Oh, working at the house, smelling the lumber, hearing the pounding hammers, all that, I guess.”
A pensive look in her eyes, Aunt Bonnie hesitated a moment and nodded. “I can see how that would make you think of him.” A pause hovered between them.
“No one stays around,” Callie said, slumping further into her chair. “Except you and Uncle George, of course.”
Aunt Bonnie smiled. “There is One who never leaves.”
“I know.” Callie didn’t want to get into another deep talk about God. She knew the scriptures and all that “He’ll never leave you or forsake you” stuff. She wanted to believe it, but doubts plagued her. Her dad had left, her fiancé, Jeremy, had left—what was to stop God?
Bonnie grabbed Callie’s hand. “Look, I know things have been a little dry for you lately. Talk to Him.” With that, Aunt Bonnie released Callie’s hand, gave it a pat and went back over to the oven. “You know, when you were a kid, you used to help your dad around the house.”
Callie perked up. She always loved to hear stories about her family.
“Until one day, you pounded a little too hard when hanging a nail for a picture and there was no stud. Your hammer went clear through the drywall.”
Callie winced. “I haven’t improved in my home-building skills all that much.”
Aunt Bonnie chuckled. “Well, community service will be over soon enough.”
Callie didn’t know what to think about that. Part of her wanted to run from it because it reminded her of her father, and another part of her wanted to run to it, because the memories were all she had left.
If only people she loved wouldn’t leave.
“Hey, Mom.” Brad stepped into his childhood home, the stale odor of a house closed up assaulting him. He thought his staying in town for a while would help her, but she was sinking deeper into despair.
“Hi, Brad.” Annie Sharp pushed herself to a sitting position on the sofa, propped the pillow behind her and worked her fingers through shoulder-length brown tangles.
In her late fifties, his mom still didn’t have a smidgen of gray. With her big dark eyes and trademark thick locks, men once sought after his mother. But these days she looked too thin, and even he could tell her hair needed professional help. No doubt the same could be said of her inner self.
Brad walked over and pulled open the living-room curtains. Late afternoon sunlight chased away the gloom. He could see Hammer waiting patiently in the truck.
“Aw, Brad, why did you do that?” She shielded her eyes. “That gives me a headache.”
“Mom, you need to let some sunshine in. It’s a beautiful day out there.”
She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”
“It’s five. Have you started dinner—more important, have you had lunch?”
“Now, Brad, don’t you start.”
He sagged into the cushion beside her and took her limp hands into his. “Mom, you have to take care of yourself.”
With her eyes cast down, she whispered, “I know.”
“Are you taking your vitamins?”
She shrugged.
“Let me take you out to dinner.”
She glanced up. “Oh, no, no, Brad. I’m a mess.” She absently ran a hand over her hair again.
“So go get cleaned up.” He wondered how long she’d been in those wrinkled clothes.
“Thank you, honey, but I’m too tired to go anywhere.”
“Mom. When was the last time you left this house?” Stray wrappers, newspapers, paper plates and empty glasses littered the room. Guilt speared him. He needed to make sure she got out once in a while. He should have been coming over more often. Work had gotten in the way of his good judgment—again.
She shrugged.
“You need to get out.”
“I will. I have to go to the nursing home soon and see your grandmother.”
She leaned back against the sofa as though she barely had the strength to talk.
“How’s Gram doing?” He hadn’t been over there in a while, either.
“’Bout the same. She misses Princess.” Princess was a nickname Nicole had been given as a small child. To Brad, the name had been prophetic. She had fallen into what he called the “princess curse,” where women think they have to have the perfect bodies, yet in their minds their bodies are never good enough. That curse had killed his sister, and left a huge hole in their family.
“We all miss her. But Nicole would want us to go on, Mom.” He told himself that every day.
She lifted dark, watery eyes. “I try. I really do.” Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“I know.” He pulled her frail body to him. “Let me take you to see Gram tomorrow.”
She finally pulled away, teetering a moment, then dabbed her nose with a tissue. “You have a job to do.”
“Well, how about I pick up dinner and then take you to see Gram, after I get off work?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at her tattered clumps of hair. “I could even take you out to get your hair done, to make you feel better.”
For a moment he thought he saw a flicker of excitement. But she said, “I’m not ready for that, Brad.”
Disappointment flooded him. What could he do to help his mom? Right now she looked so…old. Lifeless.
“But if you’ll take me to see your grandma in the next day or two, that would be good.”
He’d take what he could get. “Great. In the meantime, I’m running to that Chinese restaurant down the road that you love. I’ll pick you up some dinner. Be right back.”
As though she were too weary to argue, she leaned back into her pillow. “Okay, honey.”
He suspected she would drift back to sleep before he pulled out of the driveway.
“How you doing this morning?” Heather’s hyper voice said she’d already downed two cups of coffee. Callie could hear the whir of her car engine and the swishing of traffic in the background.
“It’s just so wrong that you’re this happy in the morning. Please don’t tell me you’re already on your way to work.” Callie settled onto the foot of her soft bed blanketed with billowy comforters. Chaos, her sandy-haired cocker spaniel puppy, trotted over to her and tried to get on the bed. With the mounds of blankets, it was too hard for him to jump up. Callie snatched her pooch and snuggled into his silky fur.
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
Callie giggled when Chaos tried to lick her face. “Stop.”
“Are you listening to me or playing with that dog again?”
“Guilty on both counts.”
Heather sighed. “Tossed aside for a puppy.”